


Virus

by Airplanes



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (i draw the original timeline out and switch some things around), Adorable Connor, Androids, Awkward Connor, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Canon Related, Cute, Existentialism, F/M, Fluff, POV Second Person, POV Third Person Limited, Romance, Self-Discovery, Slight Canon Divergence, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Tags May Change, fuck you gavin, no offense if your name is gavin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-05-18 18:37:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14858087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airplanes/pseuds/Airplanes
Summary: Connor wasn't entirely sure as to why your presence made him feel... dumb.[To be updated regularly]





	1. Chapter 1

Connor turned the brass knob with something akin to apprehension. For some reason unbeknownst to him, his thoughts were... lagging. On average, Connor was able to compute and interpret roughly 1023 petabytes of any given information in any given second - provided that his other core functions weren't being extraneously occupied by unusual stimuli, in which case the number was closer to 800 - but for some reason, lately, his processing time was exponentially increased. 

Lieutenant Anderson had questioned him about it, earlier. 

"Hey, Connor - what's with that look on your face?" It had pulled him out of his... reverie? Connor glanced up as his partner, a doe-eyed expression set on his face. 

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant - were you saying something?" He ran a subtle, abbreviated self-diagnostic test for the third time that day, but the results came back normal. Again. Connor began to fidget with his coin.

"You look fuckin' constipated," Hank's eyes drifted down to what the Android was doing with the rounded metal, fixated momentarily. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you had somethin' heavy on your mind." Hank leaned forward on his desk, and Connor made eye contact with him. 

It was true, Connor did have something 'heavy' on his mind. It was quite distracting, but he wasn't entirely sure that he was ready to talk about it. That concept alone was enough to disturb him even further.

"I assure you, Lieutenant, that I am fine." Connor tossed the coin from hand to hand more aggressively, becoming what he could only describe as frustrated. This feeling he was familiar with, especially when he was unable to accumulate enough evidence for a case, or when Hank continually ignored his health warnings, but something about this particular instance was... odd. He felt an unpleasant pressure on his 'spine' and he was burning from the inside out,  which only contributed to his discomfort. He felt the need to self-analyse again, but refrained.

"Thinking of  _someone_ , then?" Hank said. Connor recognized his voice as teasing, however, at these words the coin clattered to the ground, making a noise that sounded far too loud to his ears. Suddenly, the burning sensation traveled up his neck and settled on his cheeks and ears. 

He could feel the eyes of several of his coworkers on him, but he attempted to act natural. He bent over to pick up the coin and placed it in his pocket,

" _Ho-ly_  shit, Connor, you've got the hots for someone?" He didn't recognize this phrase - or if he did, it didn't come right to him. Connor wished that, whatever it meant, the Lieutenant wouldn't be so loud.

"I..." Connor sought to formulate a coherent response, but came up short. He knew that his behavior was suspicious - despite Hank suspecting and seemingly being fine with his deviancy, he wasn't certain how the rest of the crew would react. He shook his head, "No, I... that's ridiculous." It was a weak response.

"Well, you're a  _shit_  liar. Who is it? Someone I know? A human? Android?" Hank had a wolfish grin on his face, and Connor found it difficult to think with... 

"Anderson, leave the poor boy alone." Just then, you came close enough to place a hot cup of coffee and a donut on Hank's desk, and a cup of something on Connor's desk. He jumped when he first saw you. To avoid suspicion, he pointedly avoided eye contact with Hank.

"Thank you, Detective - but I do not have the proper systems to synthesize any human beverages-"

"It's blue blood, Connor." She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and he felt his body heat up even more at the contact. He really, really liked it when she touched him. "You have been spacing out more lately, I'm thinking maybe you're running yourself out." You smiled at him, sincerely. 

He looked deeply into your eyes, all systems trying their best to understand exactly what this... feeling was. It made his artificial heart flutter.

"I... appreciate you thinking about me." That sounded too presumptuous - "I mean, I- thank you for- I..." He couldn't even speak properly. He gave up - his eyes fell to his desk, and he took the cup in his hand. "Thank you." He took a small sip, thankful for the relatively cool temperature of the liquid.

"You look a little flushed - have you run any diagnostics recently?" She sat on the edge of his desk, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see the look on Hank's face. He had his feet up on his desk, and a sort of... coprophagous grin on his face. Connor sighed, quietly.

"Yes, I have conducted several abridged diagnostics in the past 14 hours." He answered quietly, taking another sip. He sat the cup down, opting to fiddle with his fingers instead. A warm hand rested on his forehead, and he looked back up at her in response, swallowing unnecessarily. Her lips twisted to the side. 

"Anything notable about them? You're burning up." Her brows drew together in concern, hand falling away, and the next words he spoke were completely out of his control.

"You're really pretty..." Oh, God, why did he say that? His thought-speech filter must have an issue - some sort of bug or virus or anything to explain what what happening to him. He closed his eyes and drew his own brows together. His artificial pores opened and began to let out steam, for the first time since he was in beta testing. "I don't know why I said that," His voice was thin, and a sinking feeling surrounded his power core. It felt worse than when that deviant literally ripped it out of him - it was almost as though it was trying to fall out on its own.

"Well, thanks anyway." You responded, seemingly amused. "Look, I'd like to run my own diagnostic, just to be sure - if that's alright with you?"

Connor nodded, afraid to speak again.

"Great. So, after your shift, meet me at my house." She placed her hand back on his shoulder, and smiled at his again, "Drink up, Connor." He nodded again, staying silent. 

If his... embarrassment was bad whilst she was there, it was worse after she left. He had hoped, somehow, that Hank wouldn't notice that anything was off about him, but after that social disaster that just occurred, he figured that anyone watching would know something was up.

There was a merciful long stretch of silence between them, until Hank finally broke it. "Well, damn. You've got a hard-on for our partner."

Connor hung his head in something like shame. When he did speak, it was directed at the ground, "I am aware of several company policies banning fraternization between their employees - and I have no intention of pursuing any kind of romantic relationship with Detective [Last]. I will be trying my hardest to erase this... inconvenience from my software, Lieutenant."

"Inconvenience? Is that what we're calling it now?" Hank bit into his donut, pondered it, and shrugged. "You know what? You're right - but nobody ever follows the fraternization policies, Connor. Listen-" He lifted his feet from the desk and leaned toward the android. "-I'm not gonna tell you what to do, but just go with the flow, alright?"

"I'm not certain what that means." Connor worked himself up to making eye contact.

"You will, Connor. You will."

 

And now, he stood somewhat frozen outside of your home.


	2. Sensory Overload

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so wow I wasnt expecting this to blow up so quickly 
> 
> enjoy folks 
> 
> [slight lime]

"Connor?" Your voice startled him back into the present. Truthfully, he was slowed largely by thoughts of you. Instances where he would just relish in your shared interactions, your purely platonic touches turning his insides into... well, mush.

"It- it's me." He tripped up over his words again, central processor still focusing on the memory of your hand against his skin. It was a feeling decidedly worth embarrassing himself to get. "I'm sorry I'm late, but Hank and I - we were busy discussing the details of our most recent case." He wondered for a moment if she would think that he was choosing Hank's company over yours, but tried to push the anxiety away. He stood in the doorway, eyes focused on a lone picture on an end table across the room. There were two people in it, one was you and the other was a man that-

"Well, what are you waiting for? Come on in, Connor." He took one step inside, almost stuck in place by your gaze. His eyes, despite the fact that he knew the impropriety of it, drifted down your form - you were out of your uniform, now suited in a simple pair of leggings and a camisole. He took his time as he examined every curve of your figure, dedicating the sight to his permanent hard drive.

He didn't know why. 

When he looked back up, you weren't eve looking in his direction. You'd begun moving things out of a small room, and he moved forward to assist you. 

"Thank you." You said, as he lifted the boxes from your arms. "Now, when I was talking to you earlier, your LED was bright red." Connor perked up at this information, something like surprised. "Have any ideas as to... why?" She lifted more boxes off of a metal table that came up to her waist. One by one, you both cleared the shiny surface. Connor peered into an open box, noting the neatly folded clothes and peered over at you, an expression not unlike that of a puppy on his face.

These were men's clothes. 

"Uh, no." He lied through his teeth, clearing the last of the few things off of the table. 

"Yellow." You said. Connor blinked at her, "You just went yellow. Connor - Look," she sighed, "I want to help you, but I need you to be honest with me. We're partners now - you can trust me." Her vocal inflection led Connor to believe that she was being sincere, but still, he paused to consider.

"If I might ask..." He started, deciding to deflect, "Who's clothes are these?" He'd had a vague idea - the man in the picture on the end table appeared to be about the same size - but for some reason, the thought disturbed him. 

Your shoulders sagged, a frown drawing her brows close and tugging her lips downward. Connor regretted the question and dreaded the answer. "My uh... a friend of mine. We used to live together but we're going through a bit of a rough patch." Despite the obvious unpleasantness of the conversation at hand, you still smiled at him. 

"I'm sorry to hear that." He was familiar with the concept of roommates - in fact, logically, it seemed like a very beneficial setup for two unmarried individuals - but for some reason, the thought of you living alone with another man... upset him? 

"Are you gonna tell me what's upsetting you, now?" She asked, raising a brow in a way that shouldn't have affected him as much as it did. Connor looked elsewhere around the room, at the few paintings that hung on the wall. He kept silent.

"Stubborn men..." You muttered lowly, almost to yourself, "Up." He sat on the table and looked to you for further direction. "Lay back." He lifted his legs and laid back on the table, staring at the ceiling. "I'm going to inspect your power core, first. Are you okay with that?"

He didn't even consider the question, "Yes."

A second later, despite his certainty, his body jolted when her hand trailed up his chest - his heart jumped into a rhythm that was certainly not normal - but he tried to keep his composure, choosing to close his eyes.

"At the very least, if you won't tell me what's causing it - What have you been feeling?" She spoke softly, another hand joining her assault on his sensory program. Her fingers drifted to his collar, and a second later she loosened his tie, sliding it off. Connor made an effort to focus on her question. 

"I... I'm not sure - sometimes I can't focus on what I should, I just..." As he spoke, she popped the buttons of his shirt open one by one. "I feel-" He paused. She wasn't yet aware of his deviancy, at least not to his knowledge, "Like my thinking has slowed, and..." She unbuttoned the last button, and pushed his shirt aside. He opened his eyes and looked down at her. She was peering into his power core, but had to stand on her toes to get a good look.

"Shit." She cursed. Next thing he knew, she had hoisted herself onto the table, straddling and trapping him beneath her. If that wasn't enough to stop all of his processes, her fingers delicately tracing down his chest and circling his power core was. The sensation was difficult to comprehend. "I hope you don't mind." She looked up at him from where she hovered over his power core.

Unable to form words, he shook his head.

She sat herself just barely above his knees, and with her left hand,  placed her middle and index fingers over his power core. "May I?" When he nodded, the skin of her hand dissipated and turned into a smooth, plasticine material. 

Once she made contact, Connor shut his eyes once more. It was a sensory overload if he'd ever felt one - his core was tingling, sending a shiver through his entire form, and he couldn't feel his toes. His heart was beating rapidly, and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was still holding. In a desperate attempt to try and understand exactly what he was experiencing, he quickly ran a full self-assessment - the results came back with four different error messages. 

Before he could even begin to try and manually diagnose his problems (his program should have already been identifying and correcting these issues, but it hadn't even begun - that was odd), your hand twisted at something, making the strange, overwhelming feeling worse. His heart hammered in his chest and his fight-or-flight reflex kicked in, hard, to which he grit his teeth. He gripped the edge of the table to keep himself from shaking too much, even though he trusted you not to pull his thirium pump regulator out. He looked back down to watch what you were doing, overcome by curiosity.

Your fingers gently slid the center slot of his pump regulator out, sending electricity throughout his body. It should have made him want to push it back in, but he wanted you to keep going. The feeling was weird, it felt...  _good_. Really good. It might have been your gentle touches, or the  _exhilaration_  of possibly shutting down compounded with the sensation, but he was enjoying this. 

His legs were trapped underneath you, so he tried not to make it too obvious that he was trying to unfetter his reactions to the sensations. His toes curled at the pleasant tug in his gut, eyes fluttering shut as he tried to turn his sensory sensitivity down, but his system was noncompliant. To try and maintain some semblance of stability, he slowly, one by one, clenched and unclenched his fingers around the edges of the table. Something rose in his chest, and his body processed it at a noise. Before Connor could fully register or understand why it was there, it came out as a low, guttural moan, followed by a harsh whine.

There was a pause that lasted an eternity in which neither of you made a noise. Connor squeezed the edges of the table, pressing his eyelids tighter, his ignominy keeping them closed.

When you slowly pushed the piece back in, he bit back the second sound that tried to escape his throat. 

"That's... what-" Your voice cut the silence that befell the two of you, sounding far too loud to Connor's oversensitive ears. "Did it... hurt?" He took a long moment to compose himself before answering.

"In a way." He lied again, between calculated, evenly measured breaths. His stress levels were rapidly increasing, and in the back of his consciousness he received a minor heat warning. After you ceased contact, he felt nothing but shame, previously pleasant shock waves transforming into burning mortification.  "Don't worry, I can handle it. Did you find something wrong?" He pretended to be clueless, hoping that she didn't see the flush starting to cover his cheeks. He knew what was slowing his thoughts down, at this point.

"I'm not getting a lack of any biocomponents, so I won't need to do that anymore, okay? I'm sorry for hurting you." She said. Disappointment coursed through him, but he nodded nonetheless. "Maybe... can I link up with you?"

She lifted herself off of his legs, and he felt his blue blood flow freely to his bottom half. She crawled up his body so that they were face to face, the image of which Connor dedicated to his memory. 

He didn't want her to know how she'd just made him feel, for fear of their relationship changing negatively - but the pleading and mildly apologetic look on her face made him want to give in, consequences be damned. As such, Connor let his right hand loosen on the table, and slowly raised it up. Hesitantly, she brought her own hand up towards his, as the synthetic skin on both of their hands melted away. 

Right before their fingers made contact, there was a knock at the door. Connor felt relief. You smiled apologetically at him, and moved off of the table, "I'm sorry. I'll be right back, okay?" and scurried out of the door, leaving him alone. He sat up, and stood on his own two feet on the ground, a little wobbly in the knees. He blamed it on bad circulation.

That is, until he looked down.

He froze in place, mind going absolutely blank for a solid second. Connor stared at the large, very obvious tent in his pants for who knows how long, seeing a message flash across his retina that informed him that he was going to begin a perspiration sequence.

_What?_

It wasn't until he heard your front door close again that he spurred into action. He calculated that it would take you roughly eight seconds to reach the room again, so he fumbled with his belt, trying to get it loose. To his  _horror_ , his fight-or-flight sequence never actually ended, so his hands were shaking too much for him to properly get a grip on it with the precision required to pull it open. 

Giving up on readjusting himself (especially since he'd wasted four seconds fumbling with his belt buckle), he pulled off his jacket, balled it up messily, and pressed it against his shameful erection. You walked in just as he hid himself.

 

He was an odd sight to you.

Connor's demeanor seemed that of a very troubled individual. His face was what you'd describe as flushed, with a blue tinge to his cheeks, and a slight sheen of moisture on his forehead. His lips were parted and he was breathing a tad heavier than usual, eyes wide and pupils blown in an oddly... erotic expression. He had inexplicably pulled his jacket off and now held it in front of him at his waist, and his normally pristine button up was still unbuttoned, collar entirely uneven. You furrowed your brow in concern upon viewing his persistently red LED.

"Oh, geez, Connor are you okay?" You asked, approaching him slowly. Truly, you worried for him. "What's the matter?"

He looked at you with something like repentance in his gaze, backing up against the wall when you got close enough for him to have to look down at you. He looked like a cornered animal, though he didn't break eye contact with you. You placed a hand on his shoulder and he pressed his lips together, closing his eyes. He seemed to swallow visibly, and you wondered if that was necessary for androids.

"Nothing is wrong, Detective." He said after a moment, opening his eyes again. His LED was no longer flashing an angry red, instead settled on a sort of orange. "I just-"

"Connor," You sighed, exasperated, "I'm  _trying_  to help you. Please just tell me what's wrong?" He'd been acting weird around you for about two weeks, and whenever you asked him about it his LED would turn a different color and he'd just deflect the question. You were tired of it. "Did I do something to make you hate me?"

The thought upset you. You'd actually quite liked Connor - as someone who was almost half-Android themselves, you appreciated being able to talk with someone that at least had some of the same experiences as you. Not only that, but he was funny, and sometimes more empathetic than other humans,  _and_  he wasn't bad to look at. 

His LED went straight back to red at your inquiry. He seemed distressed, "No, that's not it. I-" He hesitated, "I never meant to make you feel as though I disliked you, Detective-"

"[First]. Call me [First]." You crossed your arms. Connor nodded, looking around the room for what felt, to you, like an escape. You wouldn't let him, not this time. "What's wrong then, Connor? I just want the truth. I thought we were friends?"

For a long while, he didn't answer. 


	3. No Results Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fair warning: this chapter will be changed up a bit by tomorrow.
> 
> thanks for the feedback yall, I love reading your comments !!
> 
> uh, [minor lime??]

Connor was in a predicament.

His brows tilted upward, drawing together as his eyes met hers again. He could feel a throbbing  _soreness_  in his groin, and he was beginning to panic. He needed out. "I'm sorry," He managed. Her proximity wasn't helping his situation, and he was struggling to plan the best course of action. 

Despite his sincere apology, her eyes narrowed up at him. She seemed determined to get an answer out of him, much like him when he conducted an interrogation. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

He thought back to his behavior since his feelings first developed. He hadn't been  _avoiding_  her per say, he'd just limited their interactions as much as possible. "If there was any offense caused by my recent behavior, I assure you that it was unintentional." She reached out and straightened his shirt, beginning to button it back up from the top down. 

"That's not an answer." Her lips curled into what he thought was a pout, and he had the sudden urge to bang his head against the wall. He couldn't understand what he was doing wrong, and he was still overheating, despite the moisture escaping his body in bullets. Her expression softened considerably with a resigned sigh, and she ceased her efforts to straighten his appearance. Connor wanted to breathe a sigh of relief as she took his free hand in both of hers, and he finally felt his fight-or-flight program deactivate. "You know what? You don't have to tell me. I understand-"

"I think I've been infected... by a virus." He blurted out. He didn't want her to think that he didn't trust her - he did, just as he trusted Hank. Her eyes widened and he could see the concern painted clearly on her face. He kept the lie rolling, "I've been avoiding you because I- I didn't want you to catch it-"

"A virus?!" She cut him off and he blinked a few times in surprise. "Oh my goodness, why didn't you tell me sooner?" She grabbed his free hand with her real one and began to pull him out of the room, and in reflex he pressed his jacket harder against his persistent erection. Instead of heading towards her front door, she veered them right, down a hallway decorated with various paintings up on the walls. As he passed them, he wasn't able to attach them to any artist in particular. That was odd.

"Where are we going?"

Her step faltered as they reached the entrance to some room, and she had an unreadable look on her face, from what part he could see. "Where do you normally stay, Connor?" She turned her face slightly towards him.

Mildly confused by the question, he answered, "The Chief Detective has made it possible for me to remain in the office during off hours." She turned around fully, eyes wide at his answer. "Is this a problem?"

"Connor, that's awful. Do you get  _any_  rest?" She looked baffled, and with her free hand, she turned the knob to what appeared to be a bedroom. It was plain, in contrast to the rest of the house. 

"Contrary to humans, androids do not require any form of 'rest' to function optimally, though it is possible for some models to enter a hibernation-like state at the discretion of their owners." He answered, still looking at her with confusion in his gaze. "Normally, I continue working on minor tasks while the office is empty, and when I have completed that, I assist the cleaning androids with their duties. Sometimes, I even brew the first pot of coffee." 

"That sounds  _insanely_  boring!" She smiled, humor in her voice as she turned back around to face the door. To him, it was quite therapeutic, being with his own kind for a while. "You're staying with me until we get this... virus thing sorted out."

The only thing that came to Connor's mind at that was an uncharacteristically creative arrangement of expletives - he  _couldn't_  stay here like this. They seemed suitable for this instance. "While I deeply appreciate your intentions, I wouldn't wish to impose-"

"Nonsense! It'll be fun. Think of it like a sleepover." You pushed the door open wider, pulling him in. Once he was fully through the door, you let go of his hand. He missed the contact almost as soon it was gone. "Right, well I'll leave you alone to get settled in and explore - I've got some more blue blood, and I'll start doing some research on how to help you out. Maybe it's like a cold, and we just have to wait it out?" She seemed to be inquiring upon herself, so he didn't offer an answer. It's not like he had one, either way. "Ah, whatever. I've been needing some company since my roommate moved out. Consider it a favor for me, huh?" She reached up to pinch his cheek and muss his hair.

Recognizing the joyous and excited expression on her face, he conceded. "I look forward to spending time with you." He offered her a half-smile, almost not managing because of his discomfort. "I'm grateful for your offer of assistance."

She smiled brightly back, and finally,  _finally_  left him alone, closing the door behind her. 

As soon as she was gone, he pulled the jacket away and inspected it for wrinkles. Finding that it would no doubt need to be ironed, Connor sighed heavily, tossing the garment on he bed. His next major concern was his baffling tumescence. He reached down and undid his belt, pulling it loose and then off. He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants slower than necessary, stalling.

Once that was done, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of both his jeans and briefs  (which, honestly, he wasn't sure  _why_  he wore - perhaps it was because most humans did?), and hesitantly pulled them both down. When his erection was fully visible, he stopped - about mid-thigh - and grimaced at the spectacle before him. 

His penis was a new sight to him. Since he never really fully undressed himself, he had always ignored the extra organ, figuring that it was a purely aesthetic addition. He was mildly surprised that it seemed so meticulously crafted, with details down to the realistic freckles, and intricate veins running along the shaft. Whoever it was that crafted this fairly impractical feature must have at least had a passion for it. 

Since his hot/cold sensitivity was on, the cool air that met his overheated skin sent conflicting messages to his CPU. He sat down on the bed to get more comfortable, and connected to the internet to look for possible solutions. After searching through roughly a billion results, he noted that nothing in particular came up for the specific phrase, "get rid of android erection", so he gave up on the species-oriented search, instead opting to get tips from humans. 

The first - and simplest - tip he saw was to make himself ejaculate. Since he wanted to get rid of it as quickly as possible,  he decided to try - he gradually brought his fingers forward, and with his index finger, touched what he identified as his glans. As soon as his finger made contact, his sensory program sent a fiery buzz up his spine, and he let out an involuntary whimper at the sensation. Taking a deep breath, he gripped the previously pristine sheets, and slowly wrapped his fingers around himself. By the time he held himself securely, he was already panting. 

From his research, Connor thought that he knew the logistics of the act enough to disconnect from the net and erase his search history (what if someone found it?). It seemed simple enough - physical stimulation combined with mentally or visually arousing media. He tried to recall something that appealed to him visually, and the first thing that came to mind were thoughts of [First]. He recalled seeing her once, whilst she was off-duty - her hair was down, and she wore a low-cut jumpsuit that exposed him to more of her than he'd ever seen before. It had hugged her figure in a way that for some reason made his palms tingle, practically burning to touch her, just to run his fingers across her skin and hear her just whisper his name.

Back then, he hadn't been sure why.

Connor gave a test stroke, body jolting forward and fingers curling tighter into the bed. He bit his lower lip and groaned as he focused purely on thoughts of [First], pumping his fist evenly along his erection. He planted his feet more firmly against the ground and referred back to the image of [First] hovering over his power core. She had stuck her tongue out, finger delicately but surely sending foreign forms of pleasure through his body. He had wanted her to do more - he'd wanted her to make him  _feel_  more.

His hips jerked upward, and he focused more of his touches on the tip, finding that to be the most stimulating. He shuddered, sighing into his own touch, when a startling knock sounded at his door. In his surprise, a yelp escaped him and he slapped a hand over his mouth, releasing himself from his grip and standing up, hurriedly yanking his pants and underwear back up over his hips, shame once again burning him from the inside out. 

He didn't want to think about her like that, anyway. Not when he'd have to look her in the eye  soon afterward. 

A moment later, there was a second, soft knock on the door. "Yes, [First]?" He answered, closing his eyes. He adjusted his hard-on in his pants, pushing it down the leg. It felt slightly uncomfortable, as if he was overextending something. 

"Are you okay in there, Connor?" Her voice startled him, and he huffed in pure frustration before answering.

"Yes." His answer was short, but he didn't want her to think he was upset. "I'm feeling fine." 

"Okay. Holler if you need anything." He waited until he couldn't pick up on the sound of soft footsteps anymore, letting out a groan of frustration.

Connor decided to attempt a full system reset instead. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw you're not an android, next chapter will explain more abt that.


	4. Not That Innocent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sksks sorry it was finals week and i had a lot of stuff to do but now it’s summer so updates will be super frequent now yay 
> 
> [angst] [existentialism {nothin too crazy}] [characterization] [plot without porn]

You bent over into the cool air of your open fridge, grabbing the few things that you thought you might need for your friend.

Connor worried you lately. If he really was suffering from some sort of virus, that explained it all - but his excuse of not wishing to expose you to it seemed odd. He had shown concern for your wellbeing since you met him, but back then you'd figured it was part of his socialization program.

You sat the bag of blue blood on the counter, grabbing a tall glass from a shelf.

For the millionth time this month alone, you wondered if he knew that you knew he was a deviant. It didn't seem much like a secret to you, considering the friendliness Hank showed him more and more recently, and how often their conversations would drift to something deeper than just small talk and investigations.

You poured a bag of blue blood into a glass and set it aside momentarily, wondering what you'd make yourself to eat. As you scratched your head and weighed your options, you heard a noise from the room where you'd left Connor.

You felt slightly guilty. You had thought that androids couldn't feel pain (you couldn't feel pain in your left half at all), so you hadn't even considered what might happen if you messed around with his regulator while he was still active. Even though you knew that he was completely capable of looking after himself, you knocked on the door.

You waited for him to acknowledge you. There was a yelp and some sort of rummaging round from beyond the door, and you placed your hand on the knob, considering entry.

"Yes, [First]?" He sounded winded, which was very unusual for any android. Concern creased your brow.

"You okay in there, Connor?" You asked, shifting your weight nervously. Sincerely, you made a mental note to ask CyberLife about his virus.

"Yes." His tone was clipped and it kind of stung emotionally. "I'm feeling fine." That addition was much nicer, at least, but still he sounded upset. He probably felt sick?

"Okay. Holler if you need anything." You said, mildly dejected. You let go of the handle and bit your lip, heaving out another sigh. At the very least, you figured, he agreed to stay with you and let you help make him better.

You returned to the kitchen and decided on a simple dinner for yourself. Once you were settled, you pulled out your tablet and began an arduous search on how to get rid of android viruses. At about nine - three hours after you'd eaten, and four hours after he'd come over - Connor exited the room he had decided to recluse himself into. When you heard his door open, you looked up to find him looking much better, overall.

"Hello." He said. His LED was a calm blue, and he had changed his clothes for the first time since the end of the revolution. He was still simply dressed, with a plain white tee shirt and a dark pair of jeans, he looked good.

You smiled at him. "Hey. There's something for you on the counter." You had resolved yourself to back off, almost regretting how you'd tried to press him for information. You hadn't seen his LED red since... well, it had been a while.

"Thank you." He said, heading towards the kitchen. Before he disappeared behind the threshold, he placed his hand on it, turning towards you with some sort of potent expression on his face. His LED went green. You tilted your head slightly in question.

He turned around to face you halfway, opening and closing his mouth several times as he tried to look for something to say. Finally, he settled, "Would you say that androids are... do you think that I'm alive?" He looked conflicted.

"Do you?" You asked. When he didn't answer, instead seeming more lost, you asked, "Why do you let people treat you the was that they do? You don't have to obey anyone except for CyberLife."

"Why do you interact with more androids than you do humans?" He countered. "It's not as if other humans don't find you pleasant to be around." Vaguely, you wondered how he knew that. 

"Why did you change your clothes?" You deflected, almost defensive. "I haven't seen you do that since you went undercover."

"Why... why do you care so much about us?" His body language changed and his LED turned yellow. You pinched the bridge of your nose with your real hand.

"When are you going to admit that you're a deviant?"

He fell silent for a moment. You sat your tablet down with a slight huff.

"Connor, the only person that can answer these existential questions is you. You can't - I can't answer that for you. I don't even know that about myself - no human does. We can try and find solace in some higher power with a plan for us but - no one ever really knows." You moved towards the edge of the seat, tossing a hand in the air. "Do you really want to know why I care about androids so much?" In response, he nodded. You mentally prepared yourself for his reaction. "Right, well... you know how I got-" You gestured to your left half, "-this, right?"

He nodded again, this time biting his lip. He had become so human these past few months. "I researched it thoroughly before I met you."

"Right, well - the thing is... the report left something pretty important out. I was... it was about four years ago - I don't really remember much about that night, or anything that came before it, really, but what I do is just... awful. I was awful." You frowned deeply, trying to properly recollect the events that led up to that night.

This seemed to confuse him. "I don't understand. From what I learned, you were chased onto an automated highway by a deviant attempting to murder you. How are you to blame for this?"

You stared at your empty glass on the table, heaving in another sigh. This was harder than you thought. "I used to treat androids so _horribly_ , Connor." Your cheeks began to burn as you told him. "The android that was chasing me used to - it - he was mine. I had named him Adam. And I - I had a friend that would come over whenever he was angry to... vent, and when I would leave he would just... he would hit him, Connor." You didn't look up at him, for fear that you would have to watch him start to hate you. "And a-at first I didn't know. But - when I found out, its not like I did anything to stop it." You felt your throat start to close, almost as though your body was trying to stop the words from escaping your mouth. Your nose began to burn and your eyes stung.

You didn't want to continue, but for some reason felt you had to. "I don't remember much, but there was one time where he'd beat him so bad that I had to send him in for extensive repairs." You almost couldn't believe what you had allowed, guilt twisting your gut into a knot. You worked up the courage to look up at him, to see that he had started moving towards you, slowly, brows knitted together. "I didn't have his memory wiped because I had thought that it would be inconvenient for  _me_ ,  _God_  - I can't believe - And then a few days later my friend came back and Adam, he just... snapped, as soon as he saw him. He killed him." Tears overflowed from your eyes, and Connor sat down next to you. In a way, this only made your guilt worse. 

"I was afraid that I would be next, so I ran. I climbed the fence - and I thought that he would think it was too dangerous, so I just... went across the highway - Connor, I'm so sorry." You placed both of your hands on his shoulders, and he gave you a meaningful look, placing one hand on your cheek. His thumb wiped away a tear, only for it to be replaced by another right after.

"You didn't know." He said, voice no higher than a whisper. You leaned into his touch, despite feeling undeserving of his affection. 

He waited a moment, eyes seemingly scanning for a change in your expression that would let him know his words had helped, but you figured that he'd found none. He pulled you in for a gentle hug, and you buried your face in his neck for a moment to allow yourself some reprieve. 

You could feel his heart being in his chest, at a slightly faster rate than your own. A moment later, you pulled back. The both of you looked deeply into each other's eyes, faces only inches apart. Connor's eyes drifted downward for an instant, but then he met your gaze once more. 

Slowly, he leaned forward, and you thought he was going to hug you again. You stopped him with both of your hands on his face, feeling a lump rise in your chest. "That's why these protests are so important, you know? That's why I'm always..."

He stared at you blankly, an inscrutable expression on his face. Still, you spoke again, "It's hard for people to get on your side. It's gonna be hard - because if they admit it, if they admit that you are all alive and- and conscious and aware and intelligent  _beings_ , then they have to accept -  _we_  all have to accept that we've been committing  _genocide_  these past months. We'll all have to admit that we are accessories to a ruthless slaughter, and because of this, for as long as we can, we'll deny it. Do you understand?"

It took longer than you were comfortable with, but he nodded, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "I understand. I do."

Still trying to drive the point home, you kept speaking. "Every time that... do you... do you remember when you saved my life, Connor?"

One corner of his lips rose into a half-smile and his LED changed back to blue. "Which time?"

 

He was right, there were plenty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda didn’t want to post this before I wrote the name next chapter to post with it immediately [because it’s all plot] but hey, c’est la vie


	5. All They Wanna Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall...
> 
> my bad
> 
> [plot w/no porn]

Connor's emotional programming was simple, sorted into five basic categories: joy, sadness, anticipation, anger, and fear. The latter was a new, self-implemented addition - that of which he considered to be the most crucial to his system's self-preservation program. He didn't actually have any practical need for disgust, and he had enough foresight to never be surprised. 

Or at least, until today.

As he stepped through the threshold into yet another android-related crime scene, he pondered the meaning of your earlier words. It wasn't as if he wasn't already questioning his side of the revolution, it was just that he was mostly capable of busying himself with tasks related to the immediate. 

"What'd'ya got for me, Smith?" [First]'s voice was pleasant enough, for the carnage that surrounded her. Connor had noticed that she always made an effort to be cordial and polite. He added that to the list of qualities that he appreciated her for. 

"What's becoming more and more common these days, Detective." While the officer explained the limited data collected insofar, Connor perused the crime scene.

Connor's social program was, perhaps, the most complex of all his systems. His entire purpose was to be able to quickly gather information and come up with solutions to problems, and his design team at Cyberlife had known that he would likely have to gather information from people and deviant androids. 

It didn't really matter that he could easily analyse biological samples within seconds, or that he was fitted with a reconstructive simulation system that allowed him to accurately deduce what had happened at a crime scene. It didn't really matter that he could preconstruct events before they even happened, allowing him to sometimes stop a target from doing something, or that he could effectively freeze time in a nanosecond to calculate the best possible choice for any given scenario.

Speaking of - he knelt down next to the body [a man named Frank Moore], starting from top to bottom: male, in his forties, lacerations to his chest, arms, and throat - cause of death was a severed trachea - he had been dead for about three hours. Connor pressed two fingers into the blood pooling on the ground, and gently raised them to his tongue. Within seconds, information came back to him - Blood type AB-, high cholesterol, low blood sugar levels. 

But no, all that mattered to anyone was how effectively he could communicate.

It reminded him of the human sentiment: it doesn't matter what you know, it's who you know. The police were fine, if not a little slower, without his mathematical capabilities. Where Connor truly stood out was socially. He was extremely effective when it came to Android interrogation, always knowing what to say and when to say it, coaxing out the needed information with as little trouble as possible.

Social interaction was something that no amount of calculus could predict. Social beings are fickle creatures. Connor liked to think that androids were simply logical people, never completely ruled by emotion. In practice, he knew better. He had figured out that, as was all too common, the android responsible was abused and had decided to lash out.

"Do we know what model?" Her voice cut through his existential discourse, bringing Connor back to the present.

"AP700, female. You know - it's the weirdest thing. It didn't leave afterwards - in fact, the damn thing called the cops on itself." The officer said. Connor felt a bit of annoyance stirring in his chest, but he wasn't entirely sure why.

"Maybe she realized what she did was wrong." [First] shrugged. Connor took a break from surveying the room, moving his analysis of the scene to a secondary task. He took a moment to survey her features. She had an interesting look about her - as he was aware of the 'golden ratio' when it came to facial aesthetics, he didn't quite understand why she was so pleasing for him to look at. Her face wasn't particularly symmetrical. 

Her eyes met his, suddenly, and he returned to the task at hand.

"Or maybe it just glitched out and then came back to its senses. Maybe it doesn't even realize what it's done."

She decided to ignore that last comment, instead inquiring upon Connor's findings. "What happened here, Connor?"

"Well, it started in the dining room. The android had just finished setting the table, when Moore approached from her right and knocked her over. She fell there," He pointed at the ground next to the knocked-over dining room table, "...turned, and got up. As Moore went to knock her over again, she grabbed a steak knife, and swung at him at least six times. He hit the wall there and there, and then died... there."

For some reason that he couldn't quite fathom, [First] had a huge smile on her face as she looked at him. "Right. Well, there's a common theme with these deviants, huh?"

"What?" The officer questioned, frowning at the body. 

"They were almost all abused before snapping. C'mon, Jones, you can't think that this is all still coincidence." The officer, Jones, led them through a narrow hall. "These are people."

There was a long, drawn out pause as the three of them approached the room, and then stopped in front of the door. When the officer finally spoke, her words were hesitant, "...What I think doesn't matter. Anyway, it - the android is... here." Jones twisted the knob to a bedroom, stepping aside so that they could enter. Connor took in the scene before him with something akin to apathy. From what he could discern, it was a crime of passion, and he had very little reason to believe that the AP700 would strike out again. This was a common theme amongst deviants, too.

The android in question was sat down on a neatly-made bed, fingers intertwined and legs crossed at the ankles. A pair of handcuffs were placed around it's wrists, which Connor found humorous. They must have been decorative - there was no way that the DPD could possibly believe that those would keep it restrained.

"Right, well I guess we should bring her to the station. Connor, can you find Hank for me while I stay and ask a few questions?" [First] smiled at him, though it was tinted with a bit of melancholy. Connor nodded and left.

Hank wasn't too far away, just outside the front entry. He was inspecting the outside of a flask - a gift from [First] - with something akin to confusion in his gaze. When he noticed Connor's approach, Hank shoved the item back into his pocket with an eye roll.

"What're you doing out here?" 

"Detective [Last] has asked me to find you. She did not give me any further orders, but I assume she wishes for you to join her in the interrogation of the android." Connor briefly wondered why Hank would choose to be outside, considering the fact that the current climate was what he understood to be unpleasant for humans. 

"Right..." Hank grinned at something in his words. His tone was one that Connor couldn't quite pinpoint. "[First]. You're staying with her now, huh? She told me this morning. You androids move fast."

"Detective [Last] has offered to let me stay in her home until the issues with my programming are resolved." Connor didn't miss a beat. He was almost indignant, though he wasn't sure why. 

"Yeah, so you got your foot in the door - but what about when she figures out that it's not an issue with your program or whatever? What're you gonna do then, huh?"

It was only then that Connor realized that he hadn't thought that far ahead. "...I'm not sure."

At this, Hank's teasing smile faded. Connor must've looked especially sorry, "Hey, you're probably gonna have to come clean sooner or later. [First] is the kind of woman that appreciates honesty, especially with... well, she's been through a lot of rough relationships." Hank sighed and placed a hand on Connor's shoulder. "She's not someone that you've really gotta... you know, play around with. You just tell her what's up and she'll give you an answer, you know? I mean, you've seen how she was with that Reed kid, right?"

"I understand as much, Lieutenant." The mention of Gavin made Connor uncomfortable. 

It wasn't clear to Connor whether or not Hank believed him, but as it was he stepped past him to enter the house. "C'mon," Hank said, face an indecipherable mix of emotional overtones. "She's not the kinda girl you'll want to keep waiting, either." 

Connor's social program was the most-used of all of them. He was constantly adapting, changing with every word exchanged between him and anyone, trying to puzzle out every tonal nuance and facial expression and eye movement possible. It was very useful for interrogations, communicating without offense (which happened more often than he'd really like to admit), and learning from non-androids. He was fluent in roughly 4,500 languages, and could very quickly and easily learn the remaining 2,000 if needed. 

Somehow, though, Connor remained painfully inept in the language of love. 

The android stepped back into the scene, shrugging slightly to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Not Beta Read. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos greatly appreciated!
> 
> {will update later}


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